This is a story that began some 25 years ago in a hotel in New Delhi, India. I was taking a shower in the morning in preparation for departure to the airport to fly back to the US via London. I was surprised while I was in the shower to hear the door-bell ring. Normally hotel rooms do not have door-bells, but this was a fancy old hotel called the Raj I think. So I quickly got out of the shower, pulled a huge bath towel around myself and wondering who it could be ran to the door. Somehow I caught my foot in the towel or the rug slipped, and I fell forward onto the marble floor. Because my hands were holding the towel I could not protect myself and I fell on the right side of my face. It was a hard fall and I was in great pain. Nevertheless, I opened the door and there stood three servants, a short one, a medium one and a tall one, all wearing maroon short jackets and a flat cap, and they each had their hand extended and asked for “baksheesh.” Of course I fumbled in my wallet and gave them some Rupees. But, when I shut the door I returned to the fact that I was in severe pain.
But, I had no time to do anything, I had to get to the airport and I had a taxi coming. So I bore it and quickly dressed and went out and caught the taxi. At the airport I had no time to look for anything, but as soon as I was aboard the plane I asked the stewardess if they had any aspirin, and she said “sorry, we aren’t allowed to give drugs to passengers.” I should have asked her to ask the other passengers, but I did not, I thought maybe I can sleep during the flight. But, then the flight was delayed for 2 hours due to fog on the runway, and I sat trapped in the plane in terrible agony.
Many hours later we arrived in London and the next day I called several local dentists to see if I could get an emergency appointment. I found one and went there, but he turned out to be an old man, obviously not the most up-to-date. He looked at my teeth on the RHS and said that the one from the back on top was cracked and it would take a lot of work to fix it, so I would have to come back. But, I said, I’m in pain now, so he gave me a prescription and that was that.
I was still in pain when I boarded the flight to Washington DC and until the next day when I could get an emergency appointment with my dentist. He confirmed that the said tooth was cracked and would take some work. He suggested a crown to save the tooth, and I agreed. So the problem seemed to be solved. But, I kept having trouble with that tooth. Other dentists have done things to it over the years, but it never seemed satisfactory. Finally, in Beer Sheva I decided to go to friendly American-qualified dentist Dr. Marc, who looked at the x-rays and said, that tooth is cracked and is loose and decayed and it needs to come out.
But a few weeks later before any treatment, the crown actually fell out by itself. I said good-riddance. The only problem was that the dentist had to remove the surviving fragments of the tooth. That left me with a missing tooth, and he said he would build a bridge to hold a tooth in the gap, fixed to the teeth on either side. The obvious question was what kind of bridge, Brooklyn or Golden Gate? Well last Friday Dr. Marc installed the three tooth combination, the two crowns with a false tooth fixed between them to fill the gap of the missing (formerly cracked) tooth. So now hopefully the saga of the cracked tooth is finally over.